9. Rolling Trucks
Rolling over desert sands
Steady there are dough-boy's hands.
Gliding past the silver sage
Caring naught for fame or wage;
Rolling trucks for Uncle Sam,
In his kit are bread and ham.
Slipping over moon-lit dunes
Humming low the old men's tunes.
Every moment plays the game,
Like an iron in a flame.
Rolling over desert sands,
Steady there are dough-boy's hands.